What is a little thing like time? Raptor,
captor, still you distress me with your
catalogue of titles: black-mantled, white-
bellied, red-thighed, chestnut-flanked,
collared, sharp-shinned harrier. The edges
of days spread across the land, their span
forming the shadow of a cross. With each
of your appearances, I startle and don’t
completely recover. Deep in the grass, see
where I sift, searching for my own lost names.
[LAG-signature date=”04 05 2011″ url=”http://morningporch.com/2011/04/05/159121685/”]